The Doghouse

Posted: March 20, 2013 in Family, Humour
Tags: , , , , , , ,

doghouse

Today, I would like to speak about something most men can relate to: the doghouse.
I say ‘men’ because it appears to me that when someone says that they are in the doghouse, it most often is a man, he being in trouble with a she. Now, I am not sexist, truly, but as a man who has had my share of ‘moments’ that have led me to be in trouble with my better half, I can attest to the notion that there is a definite divide in the sexes when it comes to this topic.
Have you seen the Kia commercial on television, the one where the man is trying out all the buttons, knobs, and doodads in his car, oblivious to the fact that his wife/girlfriend/mistress is sitting next to him looking quite upset with him? The next scene sees him in the passenger seat as she takes the wheel instead. I’m pretty sure they based this character on me. We men have an uncanny ability to annoy our women with the little things that to us seem so trivial, leading, inevitably, to the proverbial doghouse.
If my wife and I were to sit together, each with a pad and pen, and were to write down all the little things that one annoys the other with, she would probably have to borrow my pad, and likely my pen as well. Oh, she does things that drive me nuts, to be sure, but the things I do to her I think have driven her near the edge more than once.
I don’t think we can help it. We are wired differently. We are from Mars, and they are from Venus. They hate when we say this. This annoys them. I try to tread lightly when it comes to these things, but unfortunately, I and men everywhere inadvertently set off our women with things from the profound to mundane.
Here’s a prime example: in our house, I happen to have the task of bathing our three dogs, John, Lero and Moonie. Now, when I bathe a dog, they get the full treatment. Because my dogs absolutely HATE being washed, I try to make their experience as enjoyable as possible. So, I sing to them. Not just little simple songs. No, I go all out. I throw in some jazz, a little bit of pop, rock, blues, and even opera (their favorite). When they are clean, they are also happy to have heard some great music. However, it would seem that Anne does not quite appreciate the show as much as my dogs do. I can’t wait to hear what she thinks when I throw in the bongos next time.
Also, apparently she doesn’t think it entirely appropriate to walk around in my underwear when her parents are visiting. I try to wear my very best, Denver-Hays boxers, but I guess this is still ‘shocking’. I’ve even worn a t-shirt too, or at least combed my back and chest hair, but to no avail. This still has her annoyed. Wait until I go the ‘full Monty’!
Anne often asks me ‘what are you thinking?’ when she sees me sitting, with a look of wonder on my face (which is quite unintended). My answer, of course, is ‘nothing’. Men can do this. We can literally be thinking of nothing. I often do. But when I say ‘nothing’, ‘something’ is what I get…usually a look of disdain.
Because I sing from time to time in fundraisers and such, I practice songs. And when you do such a thing, you sometimes have to practice certain parts of a song more often to get it just right (at least right with yourself). I’m not sure if this is necessarily a guy thing, but Anne seems to think it is. I’ve started to use my truck as a rolling studio to avoid ‘conflict’.
I’m also a tad absent minded….
Where was I?
Oh, yes, I forget things occasionally. Anne will be telling me something while I’m putting on my coat. And by the time I’m opening the door to leave, I have often forgotten what she told me. She finds this especially annoying when I get home without the coffee she’d asked for, or the kids who are still waiting to be picked up, which was where I was going, but practiced singing instead.
I also tend to be oblivious to the ‘look’. You know, the look you get when you’ve said and/or done something boneheaded. I just keep plodding along, like nothing has happened. Okay, I’ll admit I sometimes ‘ignore’ the look on purpose, just don’t tell her.
Well, enjoy the doghouse, guys…..turn it into your own ‘Man-den’!!

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